


Crazed Crusaders

by Levis_turtles



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Vigilante Joker AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-04 23:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14604318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levis_turtles/pseuds/Levis_turtles
Summary: Bruce Wayne has been Batman for three months before he meets the other vigilante in town - an eccentric, masked man known only as 'The Joker'





	1. Chapter 1

“Well, if it isn’t the Batman!” Someone yelled, causing Bruce to stop in his tracks. There was the sound of someone dropping to the ground, and Bruce spun around to face the man who was suddenly standing in the middle of the alley.

 

The man was tall, and wearing a purple pinstripe suit. The hems of his trousers had been rolled up to his mid calf, and stopped just an inch above a pair of black boots. His hair was long, slightly wavy, and dyed an acidic shade of green. On his face was a mask, small and delicate, barely covering his eyes and the upper half of his nose.

 

Stepping closer to Bruce – to Batman – the man smiled and said, “What are you, uh, doing here, hot stuff?”

 

Bruce was at a loss for words. Since he had started patrolling the streets of Gotham three months ago, people had learned to let him do as he pleased. He had already proven that he had the best intentions for the city – that he would do nothing to harm it, and everything in his power to save it – and because of that, people didn’t typically stop him to ask about his business.

 

After a moment of stunned silence, Bruce said, “I’m patrolling.”

 

“You’ve never been to this corner of the city before,” the man said. He looked Bruce up and down, circling him slowly, and Bruce followed him with his eyes. “I would have noticed if you had.”

 

“Would you now,” Bruce mused. “Am I to take it that these are your streets, then?” He asked. “Your territory?”

 

“In a way, yes.”

 

“And what do you do with it?” Bruce asked. “Are you a drug peddler? A kingpin? What’s your game?”

 

“Oh, nothing as exotic as all that,” the man said. He stepped closer to Bruce, laying his hands on the chest of Bruce’s suit and following the curves to curved spikes at his wrists. “In fact, what I do is very similar to what you do.”

 

“Is that right?”

 

“Indeed it is, little bat-ling.” The man continued to trace the lines of the suit, travelling to more intimate areas with every second that passed. “You have your way of keeping crime off the streets, and I have mine.”

 

“Well,” Bruce said, taking hold of the man’s hands and moving them away from his hips. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not doing a very good job.”

 

The man’s smile, which Bruce was startled to realise hadn’t budged since Bruce had first noticed it, suddenly fell. He said, “Is that so?”

 

“This is one of the most crime-ridden areas of Gotham,” Bruce said. “Statistically speaking, arrest rates in this part of town haven’t dropped in over a decade.”

 

“Oh, statistics, statistics,” the man said with a whine. He turned his back on Bruce then, wandering further into the depths of the alley. “Is that all you care about, little bat? You may find that, if it is, you won’t last long in this busi-ness at all.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bruce asked, taking his first step closer to the man since they had met. The man seemed to notice, and looked up at Bruce with a dazzling smile.

 

“Oh, baby,” he said. “You have no idea, do you? All this time in the game and, still, you don’t know half.”

 

“So tell me,” Bruce said. He took another step closer, laid his hand on the man’s slender arm. “What do you mean?”

 

“Uh, uh ,uh!” The man wagged a finger between their faced. “That would be telling. In this business, we figure things out for ourselves. Isn’t that right, Brucie?”

 

Bruce took a step back. “You-”

 

“Like I said,” the man smiled, biting his lip slightly as he did. “And don’t worry about that little secret of yours, sweet cheeks. I won’t tell anyone. Just so long as you do a little something for me.”

 

Bruce swallowed, hard. What could this man want? Money? Status?

 

How long was he going to hold Bruce’s secret over him?

 

“What’s that?” Bruce asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

 

The man leaned in close, laying his hands against the curve of Bruce’s chest. “I want you,” he whispered, his breath tickling the exposed skin of Bruce’s cheek, “ _to stay off my turf.”_

 

Bruce blinked, turning slightly to face the man, and when he did, was kissed firmly on the lips. Bruce jerked himself back, staring at the man as he doubled over laughing. Bruce didn’t know what to make of his amusement, and was spared from having to find something to say when the man’s laughter cut off abruptly and he brushed past Bruce’s shoulder.

 

“I’ll see you around, Bat-brain. Take care of yourself, now, ya hear?”

 

Bruce spun around, ready to follow the man out of the alley, but by the time his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, the man was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first ever Batman fic so, please, be gentle...


	2. Chapter 2

A month passed and, slowly, Bruce learned to push his thoughts of the other masked man to the furthest recesses of his mind.

 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t concerned about the other man. He knew Bruce’s identity, which made him more of a threat than any of the criminals that Batman faced on a nightly basis. With that information, the other masked man _owned_ Bruce, which was why he needed to find him as soon as he possibly could.

 

The problem was that, for weeks, Bruce had been trying. He had been searching everywhere for the man – old news articles, online blogs, the criminal underworld. The problem was that, according to every resource that Bruce had to hand, that man _did not exist._

 

Gradually, Bruce’s attention was diverted, occupied by other, more important things such as the human trafficking ring that had recently set its sights on the finest of Gotham’s youth.

 

Bruce had been tracking them for days, analysing their movements, and finally, he figured out how to predict where they would be. He perched on the roof of an abandoned warehouse, watching for movement as he cloaked himself in shadows. He wasn’t sure about a time, but he knew that this was this place.

 

He could _feel_ that this was the place.

 

Theses traffickers had been taking kids from their homes, plucking them from the streets. For that, Bruce knew that they would have to be good. They would need to be nondescript, discreet, quiet – and they would need somewhere to keep the kids locked away.

 

Bruce knew that-

 

Someone rushed him from behind, and Bruce was on his feet in an instant. He caught the arm that wrapped around his throat and flipped his attacker over his back, slamming him into the ground just a second before he recognised the flash of pinstripe purple.

 

“Well,” the man said, speaking breathlessly through a laugh, “at least we know your reflexes are sharp!”

 

“What are you doing here?” Bruce growled, already making a move to help the man to his feet.

 

“The same thing as you, I imagine,” the man said. “Putting an end to these child-smuggling ass-holes.”

 

“It’s not safe for you here,” Bruce said, taking the man by the arm and pulling him into the shadows. “I’ve been researching these guys for weeks, and-”

 

“Kid!” The man said, tugging his arm out of Bruce’s grasp and stumbling back a step. “I’ve been doing this for a hell of a lot longer than you have. If anyone here had to go home, it’s _you_.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bruce said.

 

“Then I guess we’re just going to have to share.” The man pushed past Bruce, settling himself on the edge of the roof where he could see the full expanse of the courtyard. “And never,” he said, “ever, tell me what to do again. You got it?”

 

“I got it,” Bruce said. Reluctantly, he moved to sit at the other man’s side, and glanced over at him with a frown. “Seriously, though-”

 

“Do you know how to be anything else?”

 

“This is going to be dangerous. I don’t want to have to worry about you in there.”

 

“So don’t,” the man said. “I can hold my own.” He reached down then, catching the hem of his trousers, and pulled it up to his knee. Strapped to his calf were at least five knives, all wickedly sharp and ready for use. “And there’s more where that came from,” he said, “so don’t you dare presume to worry about me.”

 

Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word, a deep rumbling sounded from down the road. In an instant, Bruce was jumping back from the wall and hiding himself in the shadows. The other man didn’t seem to care about keeping himself out of sight, but Bruce wasn’t going to risk being seen before he could figure out a plan.

 

As the van approached, Bruce realised that it matched the witness descriptions that he had stolen from the police station. The van was dark, with blacked-out windows and a deep gouge cut into the right side. Bruce remained silent as the van pulled up outside the warehouse, and the engine was cut, as two dark figures slipped out of the front seats.

 

Bruce inched slightly closer to see what would happen next.

 

The two figures ripped the masks from their heads, and Bruce identified them as a male and a female. They were both large in both stature and musculature, and Bruce knew instantly that there people were not working alone.

 

The woman moved to the back of the van and fiddled with the lock, pulling the back doors open with a bang and reaching quickly into the van. After a second of fumbling, something fell out of the back of the truck, and for a moment Bruce wasn’t sure what it was. After a second, though, the small bundle began to squirm, and Bruce realised with a wave of sickness that it was a child.

 

“Those bastards,” someone whispered, and it took Bruce a moment to realise that it hadn’t been him, but the other man.

 

Bruce inched forwards, his sickness only growing as he counted five, ten, fifteen bundles being thrown from the back of the van. The oldest of the children, by Bruce’s estimation, could be no older than twelve.

 

“What are we going to do?” Bruce asked, glancing to the other vigilante as, for the first time, he considered that they may have to work together.

 

“We’re going to _kill_ those _bastards_ ,” he said, his voice the darkest that Bruce had ever heard it, “and make sure that nothing like this ever happens to those kids again.”

 

“Kill?” Bruce echoed, transfixed by that extremity, but his protest fell on deaf ears. The man was already on his feet, perched on the edge of the roof, and before Bruce could try to stop him, he was jumping down into the frey.

 

.

 

 _Vile_ , he thought. _Vile, undeserving_ _beasts_.

 

That was what was running through Jay’s head when he threw himself from the roof and started pulling punches. Vaguely, he noticed that Bruce had jumped down alongside him, that he was taking the woman while Jay focused on the man, but the only thing that was really running through his mind was the thought of everything he was going to do to them for this.

 

He wanted to pull his knives – wanted to cut their ugly bodies until there was nothing left but ribbons and blood – but he knew that that wouldn’t cut it (ha!). No, that wouldn’t do at all.

 

Jay wanted to take care of these two himself.

 

He wanted to feel their skin split under his fists, wanted to bathe in the blood that splattered his face and his suit. He wanted to feel every bruise that he left on their bodies mirrored against his own, wanted to feel his knuckles split and his arms ache and his lungs begin to burn.

 

The man tried to fight back valiantly, Jay could admit. He threw his fair share of punches, almost landed a couple of kicks, but Jay was having none of it tonight. Normally, he would let his opponent get a few shots in, just for fun, but tonight?

 

There would be none of the tonight.

 

He threw himself at the man, climbing his body and dragging him to the ground. He wrapped his thighs around his throat, pulled on his neck with his heels, and had almost hit that sweet end where the neck would break in two when suddenly, two strong arms were dragging him to his feet.

 

Jay thrashed against Bruce’s hold, screaming as he saw the man on the ground – that vile, cesspit of a man on the ground – continue to breathe, to live.

 

He didn’t deserve that quiet mercy.

 

But Bruce? Bruce wasn’t letting go. He was dragging Jay backwards by his arms, was holding him tight against his chest. And slowly? That began to work. Jay’s gasping breaths calmed to a halt and his vision was no longer red. He could feel the world around him again, could hear Bruce mumbling in his ear and taste the blood on his lips.

 

He could see the children, all fifteen of them, un-tied and lined up safely out of the way.

 

Jay relaxed against Bruce’s chest, tilted his head back until it rested on his shoulder, and sighed. “You can let go now,” he said. “I’m finished.”

 

“You promise?” Bruce asked. He didn’t sound frightened, or angry, like Jay had expected him to be – he sounded almost concerned. Jay nodded, and slowly, the grip on his arms began to fade.

 

.

 

Bruce didn’t know what to think. This man – this man who had avoided every camera and every reporter and effectively stayed invisible in the most toxic city in the world – this man was _mad_.

 

Bruce had watched him fighting, watched him ready himself to kill that man. Bruce wasn’t a fan of these people either, but to kill them so easily? Bruce could never have done that.

 

After he released the man, he took a step back, silently looking him up and down in search of serious injury. There didn’t appear to be anything wrong with him – a few bruises and scrapes, but nothing he wouldn’t recover from. He shook himself off a little, dusting off his blood-stained suit, before he turned to Bruce with a grin.

 

“Well,” he said, “that was certainly something.”

 

And suddenly, Bruce’s rage was overtaking. He said, “You almost killed that man!”

 

“Yeah, I did,” the man said. “He almost killed all those kids.”

 

“That doesn’t give you the right to kill him,” Bruce growled. “To play judge, jury, and executioner. That isn’t your right!”

 

“Do you think that guy cared about my rights?” He scoffed. “Or those kids’ rights? Of course he didn’t, Brucie. The only thing he cared about was the _payoff_.”

 

“So that makes it okay?” Bruce questioned. “You can’t just go around killing people!”

 

“Oh, can’t I?” The man yelled, and as quick as a whip, had a gun trained on Bruce’s chest. “Because I think I can.”

 

Bruce swallowed hard, taking a step back from the man. He looked unhinged, suddenly, with his hand on a trigger and someone else’s blood around his mouth. He looked like he would have no problem shooting Bruce dead, like he would _enjoy_ _it_ if he did.

 

“Not so high and mighty now, are you?” The man asked, calmly. He took a step forward, placing the gun against the exposed flesh of Bruce’s throat. “Where’s your soap box _now_ , _Batman?_ Huh?”

 

When Bruce said nothing, the other man laughed, and took his gun away with a smile. “Relax, kid,” he said. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I just don’t want you up in my business, is all.”

 

“I won’t stop,” Bruce told him. “If you’re killing people, I will hunt you down and turn you in. It doesn’t matter that you’re on my side of the law, I can’t let you get away with that.”

 

“Oh, but it looks like you’re going to have to,” the man said. “After all, now you’re an accomplice.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

The other man laughed, and gestured around them at the corners of the buildings. There were security cameras everywhere, all of which would have recorded footage of this man and Bruce, working together. Bruce could wipe them, certainly, but if he did that, he would have no proof that this man stood before him was as dangerous as he said.

 

Slowly, Bruce released a sigh. “Okay,” he said, “okay. But these people-” he gestured to the two, unconscious crooks “-you’re not going to kill them. We’re turning them in to the police, and that’s final.”

 

“The police,” the man in purple scoffed. “Do you know how corrupt the GCPD are, nowadays? These people won’t get anything worse than a slap on the wrist.”

 

“Yes, they will,” Bruce said. “I’ll make sure of it.”

 

“Yeah? And how will you do that?”

 

“I have my ways,” Bruce said. “You’ll see.”

 

“Maybe I will,” the man said, and with that, he was walking away.

 

It was only an hour later, when Bruce was ditching the two criminals outside the GCPD, that he realised that he still didn’t know the man’s name.


End file.
